The One Left Behind
by FireStorm1991
Summary: Loss and grief are difficult and traumatic facts of life. Trunks learned this in the apocalyptic world he came from. With the chance to forge lasting memories with those he never got to know, namely his father, he takes it. Along the way, he learns that he may never have some of the experiences he wanted and learns to accept that.


**Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or the characters**

**A year ago today, I lost my father very unexpectedly. My usual readers can probably gather that it was a rocky relationship, and a year later I'm still struggling with the loss. I got this idea around the time TFS did the History of Trunks (surprisingly really funny for such a heavy movie). I had decided to watch the actual movie around that time, and this idea just hit me. I hope you like it.**

**Special thanks to GoodEnoughTheOpenDoor, LacieRhea on DeviantArt, for drawing the cover art. She does commissions :D**

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It was a vast expanse of white, a desolate void, this Hyperbolic Time Chamber. It was where Trunks and Vegeta would be training for one full year. At first, Trunks had been overwhelmed and afraid, but that feeling eventually dissipated, replaced by a desire to earn his father's approval. He had been so eager to see how his father trained, to create a lasting bond that he could cling to when he returned home. He would finally learn what his mother knew about his father. When he wrapped his mind around the idea, spending time in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber didn't seem so bad. He'd have a year to get to know his father. It was nerve-wracking; it was amazing; it was exciting!

It was disappointing.

It had already been two months, and Trunks had barely had any interaction with his father. Sure, the teenager hadn't expected the two of them to know everything about each other after one day, but he had at least expected a conversation when the two of them ate. Vegeta trained alone. He made sure Trunks was aware of that from the very beginning. Trunks had tried to argue, but his father had flown off before he could even utter a sound.

It made his heart ache.

For years he had been asking his mother questions about his father, but she would always freeze and tense. He never saw her face when she spoke, but he knew his mother was proud and probably wanted to hide her grief. The words had become rehearsed over the years, but his mother always told him three things: he was a loner, he was proud, and that Trunks reminded her of him so much. Though he couldn't deny any of his mother's claims, she definitely hadn't prepared him for his father's callousness and disinterest. Trunks had expected his father to care, since he reminded his mother of him. Now he saw that he and Vegeta were similar in facial features alone.

It disgusted him.

Every day in the endless void was a challenge, some days hot, others cold, and sometime stagnant with fluctuating gravity. There were days Trunks felt like his body was being torn apart, but he survived. He knew he was strong. He wanted to get through this, not only to get strong enough to defeat the Androids and Cell, but also to gain his father's attention. He needed to prove himself for, if he could not, he was sure his father would continue to ignore his existence.

It weighed heavily on him.

_What more can I do? _He would ask himself this question every night when he went to sleep. Though he was making strides, his father still avoided him. Vegeta would train in the white void for days on end, no break even to eat, and then binge and sleep. With his intense routine, Trunks felt like his father was still dead in his life. It was painful to think that even with his father alive, he was still being left behind. He was always the one left behind.

And he had had enough.

Trunks had memorized his father's rigorous training routine and estimated the day in which his father would return for a meal. He watched as his father tossed his battle armor aside, his spandex suit tattered and torn. _What does he do to himself out there? _Trunks wondered, though quickly snapped out of it when he father slammed the door shut.

He swiftly moved into action, taking out all of the food he had prepared, heating it quickly with his ki and setting it down on the table. Today was the day he had hoped to bring get his father to acknowledge him, by any means necessary. It would not be like the time his father smacked him away when he interrupted his training. He _would _break through his father's rough exterior.

He just had to.

Unbeknownst to him, Vegeta was fuming, still having come up short in his training, not able to push further. It had taken him decades to reach Super Saiyan status, but now he only had a year to get to the next level. Theoretically it should have been easier, now that he had already attained the legend. He didn't know what he needed to do to get to where he needed be.

It was infuriating.

At the same time, he had to deal with a son he didn't know who kept looking at him with sad, blue eyes. Every time he saw that look, he thought of the boy's mother. It annoyed him to no end. His son should be stronger, able to conceal whatever emotions he was feeling. They were in the middle of a war. There was no time for distractions or emotions. Surely the boy could get over whatever was holding him back until after Cell's stupid tournament.

It wouldn't help him progress.

Vegeta exited the washroom in a clean pair of training shorts with the towel draped around his neck. He noted the fact that there was a feast on the table and that Trunks was already sitting down, waiting for him. The Saiyan prince recalled how many times Bulma would do the same thing when she had something she wanted to talk about. Vegeta frowned, narrowing his eyes at the boy who still hadn't looked up from his dish, obviously deep in thought. _Just like his mother…_

That was unexpected.

The Saiyan took a seat and reached for the large plate of egg rolls. He shoved half onto his plate and then heard his son chuckle. He eyed the boy strangely, noting the smile on his face. "What?" he snapped, not seeing what was so amusing.

"It's nothing," Trunks said. "It's just that I would have gone for those first, too. Probably the only thing mom can cook well besides barbecue." Trunks chanced a glance in his father's direction, thinking he'd maybe see a flicker of emotion. His smile immediately faded, a frown taking its place.

His father's expression remained the same.

Trunks's expression faltered and he glared down at his empty plate. "Just forget it," he grumbled under his breath, much to the amusement of his father.

The prince smirked at his son. Where he had many of his mother's habits, his anger and silent brooding came from him. Bulma would always poke fun at him whenever he got into a mood. It would goad him, and seemed very amusing for her. He wondered if he too could lead the boy into manning up and saying what he wanted to say instead of being indirect. "So, what's the occasion?" he teased. "Your birthday? One of the useless Earthling holidays? They were always pointless, but the food was decent." As if to illustrate his point, Vegeta took some teriyaki beef and rice onto his plate and began to eat. He paused after a few inhales and smirked at the boy.

His expression was priceless.

Trunks was now heatedly glaring at his father, unsure of whether he was just insulting Earthling holidays or if he was insulting the idea of his birthday. The smirk remained on Vegeta's face. He was bored and was looking forward to some verbal sparring.

It amazed him when Trunks didn't give into his taunting.

The young hybrid only sighed in frustration and looked back to his plate, finally starting to add food. "There's no occasion," he snapped. "I just thought…never mind. It doesn't matter."

Trunks began to eat in silence very slowly causing Vegeta to follow suit, but the elder prince watched his son. He observed his tensed form and realized that his goading had led him to become defensive. It annoyed him to no end that his son was so submissive when both of his parents had dominant personalities.

The boy had no confidence in himself.

No one could say that Saiyans lacked confidence. Pride was actually the defining quality each Saiyan possessed. Yes, some may have considered it arrogance, but it was much more than that. So much more. To have pride meant to have confidence in one's own abilities. It didn't matter if one was right; it only mattered how one carried themselves. To have pride meant the individual had no fear to speak up, to have confidence in their own ideas. His son, as a prince, should have had just as much pride as Vegeta, himself, did.

But he didn't.

"Speak up, boy," Vegeta ordered firmly, his gaze challenging Trunks to speak.

"I said 'forget it,'" Trunks growled out trying to contain his anger towards his father. He wanted to talk to him, but he didn't want to be angrier than he already was. Trunks hated it when he felt that anger. It only served to remind him of Gohan's death. The rage he felt that day led to the Super Saiyan transformation, and it had been both exhilarating and terrifying, but just as easily traumatizing. His best friend had been killed.

He was, once again, left behind.

Trunks hadn't noticed how far into his thoughts he had gone until he felt a droplet hit his hand. He sucked in air, not a full gasp, as he realized that he was ready to cry. He refused to cry in front of his father, knowing it would not be accepted by the proud man. The childish part of him hoped that his father had not noticed.

He couldn't be so lucky.

He chanced another glance towards his father and saw his expressionless, impassive face zeroed in on him, his arms crossed. Almost immediately, Trunks shrank inside of himself, looking down in shame. He began to eat again, slowly and silently, while fighting the tears that threatened to fall as he thought about his old master and friend.

Meanwhile, Vegeta was internally shocked. He had always believed that crying and emotion showed weakness. In the world he grew up in, it was. Showing fear and desperation in front of the enemy was not something he ever allowed himself to do.

Until he died.

At that point, he had nothing to lose. Frieza had already taken him out. He had failed in his vengeance and there was only one other that had had a chance. Vegeta hadn't realized that he was crying as he told his rival the story of his life. He unleashed all the emotions he had ever buried deep inside of himself. Vegeta had prided himself in never showing emotion towards anything, save anger. That day, he realized that he had felt emotion towards his situation. When he had nothing left, he was able to finally let go.

He had hated that.

Seeing the boy's tear, and now the tears forming in his eyes, reminded him of that moment he hated. It made him want to train, his usual solution to avoid dealing with emotion. He stopped in his stride only when he heard Trunks chuckle bitterly. Curiosity outweighed his rage, and he looked to his son questioningly.

The tears were now freely flowing down the boy's face.

"Can't handle it, huh?" Trunks asked with spite as he continued to chuckle and wipe his tears away. "So I have emotions. I expected more, but you just keep running away from them and your own. You would never understand this pain I'm feeling."

Vegeta remained silent as he watched his son grip the spot of his shirt that was covering his heart. His rage dissipated, and he was surprised by the outcome his departure had made. _Now we're getting somewhere._

"Do you even know what it's like?" Trunks continued moving his hand away from his shirt and staring down at it as tears fell into the palm. "To have all this power and not being able to do anything with it? And even at that, I lost my best friend and teacher. He knocked me out so that I might be able to fight another day. I…I wanted to go with him, and he left me. Just like you all did…"

Vegeta blinked once, his expression stern. Trunks refused to meet his eye after he said what he did. "I mean, it's not like I had you or the others to begin with," he continued. "I have no memories of anyone. That's what hurts the most. The fact that I can never have what I've wanted my entire life." He shot his father a glare, his eyes revealing the hurt he felt. "I wanted to know you, to have memories I could hold onto knowing I'll never know my own father. I hate it, not knowing. Mom barely says anything about you, and the only one who would tell me anything, the only role model I had in my life, is gone. And all because of those monsters _you _didn't want to destroy.

"You have no idea how bad it is there. I don't want history to repeat itself. I didn't want the me in this timeline to grow up without you, but you didn't even care enough to protect them. You won't even talk to me or look at me half of the time. Does my existence really bother you that much? If you had survived in my timeline, would you have left us anyway?"

Well, this had been eye-opening.

Though Vegeta was off-put by his son's emotional outburst, he felt himself understanding the boy a bit better. The prince was no stranger to this type of anger. There were not many people Vegeta would ever say he respected, let alone loved, but his own father had been the closest individual he could have formed that connection with. He trusted his father, respected his strength, and took all his words to heart. And then he sent him to work for Frieza.

It was what needed to be done to protect the planet, Vegeta's rational mind told him; but, like Trunks, a part of him always resented his father for the betrayal. When Dodoria had explained his planet's destruction, it momentarily shocked Vegeta, but he had always known. He was lying when he mocked the death that took place, saying they deserved to go. Though it held truth, Vegeta still ended up revealing his true feelings towards the loss of his people and father to the Earth-raised Saiyan he had detested.

The Saiyan could never put words to how he truly felt, and he never wanted to, anyway. "Talking" like the woman always tried to coax him to do was not very appealing to him. It would make no difference at all. The result would be based on speculation. Vegeta, other than knowing his world was destroyed by his captor, received no closure. One day, his planet and father were there, and in a moment they were gone. He would never understand why his father made that alliance with Frieza.

And he accepted that.

It took a long time, almost a decade, before he finally came to terms with the loss. He told himself he didn't care, buried his emotions so that only anger and hatred would surface. For the longest time, he felt like he would never feel again. It was why it was so hard for him to fathom the impact the woman and his son made on him.

She was his enemy, from the very beginning. All Earthlings were. His goal had been to eliminate every single one of them. Things had changed for him so abruptly that it had startled him. His relationship with the human had been rocky and came out of nowhere. It was unplanned, something he tried to convince himself was a mistake.

His son…he never really thought much of him. It wasn't because he loathed his existence, but more because he didn't understand it. Being a father was never on his list of priorities. By Earthling standards, he'd be a horrible father, not that he ever cared about what they thought. The fact that he had a son had sparked some inexplicable feeling inside of him that Vegeta just couldn't understand. So instead, he ignored it, burying that down too.

He wasn't running away.

Trunks obviously didn't see it that way, but Vegeta actually wasn't avoiding his outburst. The proud prince inside of him refused to let Trunks know that his departure had nothing to do with him, but he did understand that something about their relationship needed to change. He would not indulge the boy with petty words. He would not fulfill his childish fantasies of a perfect father for that was not who Vegeta was at this stage of his life. He would not reassure his son of his irrational fears of being unwanted or left behind.

He would, however, train him.

That was all Vegeta could offer him. It wasn't reassurance, but it would make his son strong enough to fight the tin cans of his world. It wasn't a conversation, but it would give the boy memories to hold onto for the rest of his life. It wasn't a promise to not leave him behind, but it would give the boy some sort of hope.

"Finish eating," Vegeta ordered, "and clean yourself up. Meet me out there." He pointed to the white void beside them. "One hour. Be ready."

He walked away.

Trunks's mouth dropped opened, stunned at whatever had just happened. He had poured his heart out to his father, expecting to be insulted or to receive backlash. Neither occurrence happened. He also did not get much out of the man, no words of comfort or even some speech about how they were Saiyans and that the behavior was beneath them. He received nothing from his father but an invitation to train, to bond in a way where words were not needed.

He had accepted him without saying it. In his own way, he was trying to comfort Trunks, to show him that he was listening and that he understood. The hybrid had seen the understanding flicker in his father's usually guarded eyes. He was not offering him answers; Trunks understood that. Instead, he was offering him something much more valuable.

He was offering him memories.

Once the shock wore off, Trunks quickly scarfed down the remainder of his food as quickly and elegantly as he could. The food his father hadn't touched remained on the table as he went into the washroom to clean his tear stricken face. He chuckled at his own appearance, surprised once again that his father hadn't berated him. He dried his face off and look in the mirror, looking so much better and full of youthful excitement.

Quickly, he rushed out to the void, early for training and ready, knowing his father would be expecting that of him. He was eager to train with his father, to create that lasting bond that he could cling to when he returned home. He would never learn that much about his father, and that was probably all his mother knew as well. He struggled to wrap his mind around the idea that he would never get the so called "fatherly advice." Still, he had ten whole months to get to know his father. It wasn't what he expected; it wasn't perfect; he would never get the closure he wanted.

Trunks, strangely enough, accepted that.

He smiled.

It was enough for him.


End file.
